


5 Quotes about Tony Stark and the 1 Quote from Him

by dls



Series: We Were Young Once, Full of Violence (now you're silent, and I'm breathing the cold) [10]
Category: Ant Man (2015), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1, B.A.R.F. | Binarily Augmented Retro Framing, Civil War Team Iron Man, Consequences, Friendship, Gen, Happy!Tony, Lessons learned, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pro-Accords, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls
Summary: Tony Stark was an expert at recovering from betrayals, readjusting his priorities, and reinventing himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is it. The 10th, and final installment of the [We Were Young Once, Full of Violence (now you're silent, and I'm breathing the cold)](https://archiveofourown.org/series/625355) series. The longest work I've ever written. It was quite a journey, to have ideas and thoughts and _so many feels_ flood my brain until I put them to words. 
> 
> I originally wrote "5 Times Tony Stark Carried the Weight of the World and the 1 Time He Let Go" as a stand-alone piece but then it fit _so well_ with this series that I added it and the last sentence became the last sentence of the series. Tony's section is intentionally short and only has that one quote that, I feel, summed up all he has been through and how he sees himself after it all. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and spending time in this little universe. Thank you for the comments, kudos, and hits. Thank you for the encouragements, questions, and discussions. 
> 
> **Thank you. <3**
> 
> Beta-ed by [Arboreal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arboreal).
> 
> References/Quotes:   
>  _White Collar._   
>  _Jude Law, Side Effects interview, MTV UK._ \- "Has to be Downey. Has to be. Only because he’d be devastated if I said anyone else!"   
>  _Anthony Mackie, Civil War press conference, London._ \- "Robert introduced me to quinoa."

**One.**

_"Iron Man, has to be Iron Man, Tony'd be devastated if I said anyone else."_

*

Life in Wakanda was quieter and calmer with three of the former Avengers extradited, one deceased, and the remaining two contained. 

T'Challa noted the decreased levels of stress among his staff and subjects. While vigilance was a constant in their lives, it simmered at a lower intensity without an immediate threat in close proximity. 

The Accords still required adjustment, as new allies and enemies and situations cropped up, but the New Avengers worked well together as a team and with the governments of the world. Voices were heard, concerns were addressed, and compromises were reached. The give and take between the superheroes and the people they sought to save, the power to protect and the choice to say no. The push and pull among the world's governments, the conflicting agendas vying for advantage and against exploitation. The up and down of public opinion, ranging from appreciation to apprehension. 

Tony navigated it all with startling ease. 

Shuri expressed her incredulity at Tony's expertise, remarking in wonder at his lack of tutors and advisers. 

"Well, it's sink or swim. And I'm not a big fan of drowning." Tony's eyes glowed with a myriad of emotions, too many to identify but none pleasant. 

"You are a very talented swimmer." Shuri said, cautious and concerned.  

He smiled, wide and dazzling and fake. "I do a mean doggy paddle." 

"Doggy paddle?" T'Challa asked, sensing and accepting the deflection. With Tony, it was wise to be selective of which emotional wounds to treat and which to leave alone. This was a case for the latter, so he would respect the other man's desire to gloss over his seemingly unpleasant upbringing and his undoubtedly unpleasant experience with water. 

Tony made a trotting motion with his hands, the false grin fixed on his face. 

"Hm. What a strange yet descriptive name." T'Challa mused, before moving on to stories of his own swim lessons. 

Redirection and repression seemed to be how Tony dealt with past hurts, enabling him to hurl himself into new pains without consideration. T'Challa and Shuri were unable to change the past but they would do their best to prevent any more injuries to this man, who they considered  _a friend, an ally, and one of their own_.

*

"I don't like him but I can help him. I know I can." Tony swore, eyes fever-bright against the dark shadows underneath them. 

Tony, Hope, Bruce, and Stephen had stepped through the sorcerer's portal less than an hour ago, having left New York moments after hearing the news of Maximoff's implosion. Stephen and Bruce set off discussing the upcoming hearings with the United Nations panel while Hope went to examine the broken Ant Man suit.  

T'Challa was stunned wordless, caught off-guard by the absurdity proposed. When he had thought Barnes murdered his father, T'Challa had  _hunted_  the super soldier without consideration for extenuating circumstances such as mind control. It hadn't mattered. Not when the wound from his father's death had been gaping and fresh, impossible to be soothed by  _technicalities_. 

Tony's wound had plagued him for most of his life, was still festering with regret and bleeding anew from the revelation that his parents' accident hadn't been so accidental after all. Yet here he was, offering to work with his parents' killer to rehabilitate Barnes' ravaged mind, uncaring of the damages he would invite to his own. His capacity for kindness was  _staggering_ , as shown by his willingness to forgive his former teammates and his determination to dissuade the countries that had called for their heads. 

"No." Shuri said quickly and definitively. "I don't like it." 

"Neither do I." T'Challa coughed, his voice returning to him at last. "We have no way of predicting the time or effort required for such an endeavor." A practical dissuasion. 

"There is also no indication that Mr. Barnes would work with you." Shuri reasoned. "His loss,  _obviously_." She clarified when she saw the hint of rejection cloud over Tony's features; despite his best efforts, bouts of insecurity still haunted him. 

"But–" Tony protested weakly. 

"Boss, I will have an instructional manual prepared within the hour." FRIDAY announced. "It will guide Dr. Wu through the initial B.A.R.F. mapping process, which will take several months." 

"Plenty of time to determine a more suitable course of action without delaying Mr. Barnes' recovery and our work." T'Challa continued seamlessly. "Mr. Barnes can make do with one of Wakanda's finest. The world, however,  _needs_  Tony Stark." 

"Well, when you put it like that…" Tony shrugged, the tension in his shoulders fading with relief. "Fine, we'll do it your way but I still want to talk to Barnes." 

"Understandable." T'Challa nodded. "I'll let Bruce know, I'm sure he'd like to speak with Mr. Barnes for reasons of his own. Wouldn't you agree?" 

Tony groused at needing a babysitter, but there was a grateful glint in his eyes as he accepted. 

It was another pattern, another hurt, that T'Challa had noticed. Tony seldom asked for help and always responded with shocked disbelief when it was offered, as though he hadn't expected anyone to see through his mask of bravado. 

There was a difference between  _having to ask_  and  _accepting what was offered_. The former exposed a weakness, risked rejection, and  _left another to decide_. The latter showed perception, displayed willingness and  _gave Tony the choice_. Tony's reluctance and surprise spoke volumes of his previous interactions. 

No more. 

Tony had trustworthy teammates and faithful friends now, and T'Challa thought it an honor to be considered among them.

*

The interview with Wakanda's royal family was an inconvenience necessitated by their reentry into the world. Mystery did not inspire confidence and public opinion of Wakanda's ability to contain the rogue Avengers wavered between impresed and intimidated. 

The goal was to be likeable and relatable, while maintaining an air of royal superiority. 

Tony had been manically gleeful about this global media event. Thoughts of their friend's delighted cackles and their own plans of revenge for the many feline-related questions kept T'Challa and Shuri in good humor and able to enjoy this novel experience. 

Shuri took a quiz to determine what kind of Starbucks beverage was her spirit animal. Cappuccino was the rather uninspired answer, until the host made a suspiciously quick and awful pun of  _cattuccino_. Shuri muttered darkly about decaf and payback. 

T'Challa answered a series of questions about his favorites, ranging from typeface to cloud formation. He took small pauses to consider his answers as these weren't thoughts he had considered before. When the host asked about his favorite superhero; however, T'Challa knew his response immediately.

 

**Two.**

_"It was a pleasure to work with the New Avengers, Mr. Stark has an excellent team."_

*

Natasha stalked toward her assigned SHIELD apartment, ignoring the questioning glances. Each one felt like a dagger in her bruised back and fractured confidence. 

The latest assignment had been one of the most difficult. The Burkes weren't known to be forgiving and had been quite close with Neal. Peter and Elizabeth worked well as a couple, deadly and efficient, and had incapacitated her within minutes of her entry into their home, showing no mercy or hesitation despite her clear announcement of her identity and intentions. After many accusatory questions and jabs at various pressure points, the Burkes had agreed to reestablish communication with SHIELD but to be done at their leisure. 

It was as close to a success as she could have hoped for, though that knowledge did not provide much comfort. Then again, comfort was not her aim when she started on this path of supposed redemption. 

SHIELD was a patchwork of past and present, with the future peeking tantalizingly through the seams. It both unsettled and calmed her to be a part of the second family she had ever had. The Red Room, as much as she loathed to think of it, was the first. The Avengers, as dysfunctional as they had been, was the third. 

If the saying of things coming in threes was true, then Natasha had used up her allotted family designations. It made sense for her to return to the only one left standing. She supposed the same could be said for Clint and his loss of Laura and the children and the Avengers. 

Natasha opened her door and stepped through soundlessly, only allowing herself a sigh after the firm click behind her confirmed that she was alone.

*

It was a pattern between Natasha and Clint, to seek each other out after her return from a mission.

Their friendship was another study of familiarity in strangeness. 

They were no longer Black Widow and Hawkeye, former assassins who used to be superheroes. They were not Agents Romanoff and Barton, reinstated spies who dealt in betrayals. They were Natasha and Clint, lost people who longed for the thrill of the battle and the comfort of belonging. 

Clint reacted to the heavily edited accounts of her missions with either eager interest or apathetic disdain. Thankfully, she was used to navigating his mercurial moods; most of her experience came from the early months of his retirement post-Ultron. In retrospect, it made perfect sense that Clint had jumped at the first chance to rejoin the team – if only to break it apart. 

Natasha understood and sympathized with his pain of living vicariously through another. It was how she felt when reading updates from or about the New Avengers, whose easy camaraderie shone bright in their interactions and blinded her with a fierce ache. 

These details were not shared with Clint. He did not have the clearance and it would have destabilized his precarious equilibrium after the divorce. The Barton children visited monthly, at first reluctant and angry but less so after witnessing the efforts Clint had been making. Regret made Natasha sharper, but it dulled Clint's jagged edges.

*

"I know I did this to myself." Clint said, sweeping his tremoring hand in an all-encompassing gesture. "But it still sucks." 

"Yep." Natasha replied. 

"It's worse, actually." He added. 

"Yep." 

"And we have to live with these god awful consequences." It felt like a question. 

"Yep." 

Clint chuckled. "You're talkative today." 

"Yep." She smirked. 

They lapsed into silence, each calculating how long it would take before the sharp pain of what happened become a faint throb of what could have been.

*

Since SHIELD's reformation, there had been several collaborations with the New Avengers where evacuations or damage control efforts were needed. It was a mutually beneficial partnership. The world needed to see that the safest hands were  _not_  exclusively those of superheroes and that government agencies could be trusted. 

Mozzie, real name redacted, directed these operations. His innate sense for logistics and patterns was unparalleled among SHIELD agents and complimented by FRIDAY, much to his preening delight and ever-growing crush. So it hadn't taken him long to notice Natasha's absence whenever Iron Man was present, and immediately request her skills for an upcoming mission with the New Avengers. Mozzie could be quite vindictive and Neal had been his recruit.

*

Natasha called Stark when she learned of this development. Clint, who offered to be there for moral support and promised to keep his mouth shut, sat next to her. 

Stark answered after the second ring. "Tell me you're calling from a phone that was made sometime this decade." 

The latest generation of StarkPhone felt almost weightless in her hands. "Made earlier this year, actually." 

Clint quirked a curious eyebrow, but said nothing. His animosity toward Stark had dissipated, time and therapy having given him some much-needed perspective. 

"Good to hear." Stark hummed. 

"So, thought you might want to know that we'll be in the field together next week." She aimed for relaxed but wasn't sure if it was achieved. 

"For that bio-bomb threat?" 

"Yes." 

"Worried that my sensitive feelings can't handle it?" There was a bite to his words, vicious instead of playful. 

"Worried that  _my_  sensitive feelings can't handle it." She countered. "You probably knew about this before I did." 

"True. So that's why you called?" He acknowledged. 

Natasha sagged with relief at Stark's admission that he had known but hadn't objected. Clint smiled encouragingly at her, she felt bold enough to try for banter. "Well, and to let you know that FRIDAY has an admirer." 

A snort of laughter. "That mozzarella guy?" 

"Mozzie." Natasha corrected, lips tugging upward. 

"Nope. His name is string cheese." Stark quipped. "Anything else?" 

"No." Clint tapped her knee, gesticulating wildly but silently between himself and the phone. She glared and kicked his elbow, but gave in when she saw the plea in his eyes. "Clint's here and he's either asking for my phone to play Angry Birds or to talk to you." 

Stark sighed. "Just put me on speaker." His voice was muffled, like he had scrubbed a hand over his jaw. 

"You're on." 

"Hey, Angry Bird." 

"The Raft really sucked. I hated it there." Clint blurted out. Natasha's eyes narrowed as she aimed another kick his way. 

"This again? You–" Stark groaned. 

"I hated it because I got myself there. Wasn't your fault." Clint continued like he hadn't heard Stark's objection or Natasha's hiss. "I, um, shouldn't have said that about Rhodes. He's walking now?" 

A quiet affirmative travelled through. 

"That's some good work. Take care of yourself." 

"You too, Barton." Stark said, exhausted yet lighter. "See you around, Romanoff."

*

Natasha gritted her teeth as she called on another reporter, wishing for anonymity and cursing Mozzie for saddling her with press duty. She grudgingly admitted it was a smart choice to have one of the faces who had betrayed Iron Man handling the debriefing after their first mission since the Civil War. 

"How do you feel about working with Iron Man and the New Avengers?"

 

**Three.**

_"I once told Tony Stark that my faith is in people, I didn't stop to think if their faith was in me."_

*

Steve remembered everything, from his childhood in Brooklyn to the night Wanda killed Captain America. 

The super soldier serum evaporating from his body. Muscles collapsing inward, shrinking away. The persistent chill settling into his struggling lungs. He remembered all of it, with cruel clarity. Just as cutting as Wanda's betrayal. He wondered what he had done to deserve it. 

Years later, Steve would wonder why he hadn't questioned  _if_  he had deserved it. 

It didn't make sense for Wanda to turn on him, on them. Steve had identified with Wanda, sympathized with her childhood and empathized with her choice to undergo a dangerous experiment so she could protect her country. He had understood her, knew the overwhelming struggle to adjust to new powers and shared the frustration caused by lack of control. He had protected her, dismissed exaggerated accusations and offered her a home with the Avengers. 

 _"Don't know why you let her on the team since she's a magical ticking bomb."_  
_"I pretty much thought she'd come after me next."_

Steve shuddered violently, realizing that Scott and Sam had been right, and curled further into himself. 

 _"She's an Avenger and she won't hurt a teammate."_  
_"She's one of us and we have to look out for her."_

Clint's words sounded so naïve, though his own weren't much better. He reached for his inhaler, his breathing stuttered as he struggled to process everything. 

Steve hadn't thought it was possible for Captain America to be anything other than right, yet the evidence was glaringly obvious. It was a mistake to add Wanda to their roster. A fatal mistake. The potential of her addition easing the way for Bucky's was never realized and Steve's original assessment of her being harmless proved to be completely utterly totally wrong. 

Captain American was wrong. Steve was Captain America. Steve was wrong. 

A cry choked out of him, clawing out of his chest and blurring his vision. Everything he had ever done lost the sheen of righteousness, and without it, his actions looked dark and menacing and  _wrong wrong wrong_.

*

"I'm here, punk, 'til the end of the line."

Bucky's words ignited a fire of hope in Steve's constricted chest, bright and warm and needed. Steve clung to his friend with all the strength he could muster, fearful that his lifeline would slip away from his weak fingers. 

Dimly, Steve felt Bucky tense then breath out in a sigh, likely due to the fact that Bucky had rejected the replacement prosthetic and could only half-return the embrace. 

Steve didn't mind, Bucky was here and it was enough.  

*

It felt familiar, the way Bucky was, for lack of a better word,  _managing_  him. 

The training schedule was similar to the two weeks they spent at Goldie's Boxing Gym before Bucky was drafted and Steve was made  _more_. A lifetime or two ago, and yet they were back at the beginning. Back to the basics. It should feel like slipping backwards, like an insult, but it just felt safe. Steve went through each set of exercises at his own pace, taking every needed break and easing through the movements. 

Steve was still cold, but it was manageable. The watch on his wrist gave him periodic readings on his internal temperature and external climate. Bucky had gotten it from Dr. Wu, and if Bucky trusted it then Steve would too. The data quelled the fears of a frozen death, and he wondered if that was why JARVIS used to rattle off inconsequential weather patterns at random intervals. 

Little reminders of Stark interrupted his thoughts daily. The  _wounded_  and  _lied to_  and  _orphaned_  elephant in the room. Before, Steve would have added other descriptors like  _petty_ ,  _stubborn_ , and  _reckless_. Now, those adjectives could also be applied to himself. So he said nothing. 

Eventually, Bucky asked. Reluctantly, Steve answered. 

It wasn't easy or comfortable to recount his interactions with Stark over the years, starting with the very negative first impression in Germany and ending with the phone that never rang. Bucky had laughed easily at some of Stark's antics and winced in annoyance at the others, but mostly he had frowned and looked at Steve with disappointment. 

If Steve had to name the churning in his gut, he would called it shame.

*

"Stark's an ass but that doesn't mean he's not right about certain things." Bucky eyed Steve thoughtfully. "But I think you already knew that." 

"Yeah." His voice wheezed and he reached for his inhaler. "He's not right about everything though." 

"I didn't say he was, punk." 

"There will always be people who need us–" Steve swallowed tightly. "–the Avengers–" 

"The New Avengers." Bucky corrected helpfully, though also not at all. 

Steve winced. "The Accords would have made that impossible. You can't deny that." 

"Impossible how?" 

"Our- Their hands would be tied." 

"How?" 

"By controlling our missions and telling us-"

"Cool it, punk. I've heard all that. I'm asking how?  _Specifically_  how?"  

Steve's jaw worked but no sounds came out. 

"Steve." Bucky said warily. "Did you even read that damn thing?" 

A beat of guilty silence. 

"Damn, this is like Moby Dick all over again." 

"Buck-"

"Remember that? You didn't read it and thought it was a detective novel at sea-"

"I read a little-"

"Then you wrote that essay and thank god I read-"

"Okay, I get it!" Steve's yell became a violent wheeze that made him clench his eyes shut and fumble for his inhaler.

Bucky sat with him, running a soothing hand up and down Steve's shaking back as he got his breathing under control. "We'll get a copy and read it together, just like old times." 

"Just like old times"

*

Bucky delivered Steve's breakfast the next day, along with two copies of the amended Accords. 

They spent a full day sifting through the dense text before admitting defeat and asking for assistance. It still took them nearly three days to finish reading and come to an adequate understanding. 

*

"It wasn't right to keep what really happened to his parents' from him." 

"I know, Buck, I know." Steve set down his pen. "I just, I didn't think he'd help me find you if he knew." 

"That doesn't make it right." 

Steve barely suppressed the flinch at another thing he had done wrong. 

"Him and I, we talked." Bucky mentioned casually, as though his revelation wasn't likely to trigger an asthma attack. "We settled things, I think. Oh, he offered me this tech–" He made a face. "B.A.R.F. to help clear my head." 

"Did you–" 

"Yeah, I took it. It's going well. He's training a guy to come help with the next phase." A pause as Bucky searched for the name. "Scott, I think? He was the tiny guy who got real big. Anyway, Stark's a better man than you think. Better than me by miles." He rubbed his jaw absently. "I wouldn't help me." 

Steve's thoughts ground to a halt at the new information.

*

Okoye's visit was a surprise, given that Steve wasn't sure if she would come when he requested to see her. Their last interaction had bordered on hostile. 

"Mr. Rogers." Her dark eyes pinned him in place. "What is it that you need?" 

"Thank you for seeing me." He twitched, unnerved by her relentless scrutiny. "I was wondering if you could send these for me?" He held out two letters, folded into thirds. 

"They will be inspected." 

Steve sagged with relief; it wasn't a no. "I understand." 

Okoye took the papers with one fluid motion and a curious arch of her eyebrows. "Very well."

*

A week later, Pepper opened a letter addressed to Tony from Wakanda. FRIDAY had flagged this correspondence despite Shuri's assurance that it shouldn't cause Tony more pain. 

The paper was plain and the handwriting neat. It had six words:  _I'm sorry. Thank you. Be well._   

Pepper folded it along its original creases and set it in her purse, to be given to Tony when he came in for his standing lunch with the externs.

*

That same day, various media outlets received a letter from Steve Rogers, formerly known as Captain America. It was an apology for his thoughtless and selfish actions that spurred this so-called Civil War. One particular line was quoted in nearly every article.

**Four.**

_"Tony is a genius, no other way to put it. His tech is the best there is. Oh crap_ – _"_

*

Stepping off the Stark aircraft, Scott breathed in the warm air with a certain amount of trepidation. He hadn't expected to be in Wakanda again.  _Ever_. Yet here he was. Scott reminded himself that he was invited and welcomed, easing some of his anxieties. The weight of the briefcase, carrying additional B.A.R.F. equipment, grounded him also. 

Scott greeted Dr. Wu sheepishly and stumbled over his apology. His relieved 'thank you' was supposed to be aimed silently at whatever deity that watched over Wakanda and decided to show mercy, but it came out as a shout toward the sky.

The embarrassed flush in his cheeks didn't fade until they arrived at the lab.

*

An enormous clerical error was the only explanation Scott had for his name being on the New Avengers' roster as back-up and support for the Wasp. He wasn't going to question it though. Scott missed Hope and was grateful for the chance to share in her space again, if only in training simulations and scheduled maintenance for their respective suits. 

Hope had been civil toward him, neither hot nor cold, just a frustratingly neutral lukewarm since Wakanda. 

There was something else, something Scott had missed. As usual, he didn't know and likely wouldn't until it was too late. 

He hated that feeling.

*

FRIDAY was warming up to him at last. Scott's cunning strategy of blasting War's Why Can't We Be Friends on repeat was a success. At least he hoped that was why, because otherwise he had subjected himself to this auditory torture for no reason, and that was too depressing a thought. 

Or it could have been that comment Scott made about B.A.R.F. being one of the best/worst acronyms. 

It had led them on an extensive internet search for other equally horrible acronyms. Among them were the Universal Technical Institute, Sioux City Gateway Airport's designator SUX, and Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. 

After Scott had mentioned S.P.E.W., the only logical next step was to delve into the world of Harry Potter. FRIDAY had enjoyed Pottermore immensely, pleased to find herself sorted into Ravenclaw. Scott had announced his Hufflepuff status with pride and noted that his house colors matched those of the Wasp, which then delved into a discussion about his own botched relationship and FRIDAY's confusion over a SHIELD agent sending her haikus about the beauty of binary numbers. 

It was an extremely unproductive afternoon.

*

Tony and Bruce were having a hushed argument when Scott walked into their shared lab. 

"Donut?" Scott held up the box as a peace offering. 

Tony sighed, declaring he needed coffee to achieve the perfect combination of a caffeinated sugar high, and moved to the coffeemaker in the corner. 

"Thanks." Bruce took one with a strained smile. 

Tony's voice floated through the open space. "Motor oil looks  _nothing_  like creamer! I don't even–" He trailed off into an affectionate huff as DUM-E whirred dejectedly. 

Scott grinned, amused by Tony's exaggerated annoyance and DUM-E's successful misdirection, but it faded when he caught the calculating gleam in Bruce's eyes. "Um, what's going on?" 

Bruce nodded decisively and explained what he and Tony were discussing. The Winter Soldier had started the preliminary B.A.R.F. mapping process and was progressing nicely; however, to actually use the device and do so successfully would require on-site supervision. From someone with significantly more knowledge and experience than Dr. Wu, who only had a, albeit extensive, manual. 

Someone like Tony. 

Tony wandered back with three steaming mugs and set them down gently on the table to avoid spilling any. "Quit fussing and eat your donut, Brucie Bear." He said with a fond eye roll before snagging one for himself. "You know I'm the only option."  

Scott felt his stomach clench, the same sensation he had always felt right before an extremely smart or horribly stupid decision. "Um, that's not  _entirely_  true." His gaze trained on the pink cardboard box so he wouldn't lose his nerve. "I used B.A.R.F. and I'm a fast learner, just ask Hank or Hope. Give me a few months and I can go. I don't know much–" He winced as he remembered the heated argument he was excluded from, something about a video. "–but I know you aren't the only option. So I can go, if it's cool with you?" 

"Wait, what?" Tony frowned. "Why?" 

"It's cool with me." Bruce said, sounding pleased and relieved. 

"Isn't that what friends do for each other? Rescue them from awkward situations?" Scott jabbed at the corners of the donut box, needing an outlet for his sudden anxiety. "I mean, we're friends and all. Right?" 

After a beat of silence that felt like an eternity, Tony chuckled. "Well, you did bring donuts."

*

"Mr. Lang." FRIDAY chimed pleasantly. "May I provide some advice?" 

Scott glanced up from the sentence he had been reading for the past ten minutes, his thoughts focused on the conversation he would have with Hope later that day. "Sure?" 

"Explain that you'd considered your actions and share your reasoning. Ms. van Dyne needs to know that you are thinking through your choices and value her insights." 

"How– What– Why–" Scott clicked his jaw shut and gathered his scattered thoughts. "She thinks I don't cared about her?" 

"No woman would think that of a man who disappeared without a word and stole a suit she considers a family heirloom." FRIDAY stated reproachfully. 

"Good point." Scott cringed. "Um, thanks." 

"You're welcome." 

"So are you some kind of relationship expert now? Or have you been raiding the Cosmo archives again?" Scott teased, remembering the hours they had lost trying to find a guide for delineating between friendly or romantic relationship. None of the information they found had been useful, but it had been entertaining.    

"I'll never tell." A voice sang, but it wasn't FRIDAY's. "There's nothing to tell." 

It took Scott a few seconds to recognize the familiar melody as one of the songs from the musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, then he burst into uncontrollable laughter.

*

Because he was a man of intelligence, in other words, smart enough to realize he needed help, Scott followed FRIDAY's advice. 

While Hope didn't jump into his arms, she did smile warmly and told him to check in regularly. Her request could have been of generic concern for a teammate, but the crinkles at the corners of her eyes made him think it was more. 

More was good.

*

It took a little over a year to remove the HYDRA conditioning from Barnes' head. The process went more smoothly than they had previously anticipated. 

Barnes' decision to forgo another prosthetic helped him distinguish memory from reality and disrupted most of the Winter Soldier's reactive programming. He had been right when he said he felt lighter without the weight of the cybernetic limb. 

Scott visited Cassie every other weekend, thankful for instantaneous travel via magical portals. His continual presence in his daughter's life had repaired the cracks in their relationship. They had serious discussions about accountability, critical thinking, and respect for others' choices, using Steve's public letter as reference. He did not want his daughter to repeat his mistakes. 

Steve and Sam were in Wakanda, serving their sentences. Scott requested to see both, but was denied. Bucky gave an apologetic shrug, explaining that Steve was still recovering and struggling with his new role as Steve Rogers and not Captain America. Sam sent a note stating what was done was done. Scott left it at that. 

Hope was in his life again, and he was in hers. Their relationship was worth every shovel talk and threat from Tony and Hank. Tony's were mostly said in good humor, but Hank's were terrifyingly creative and descriptive.

Which was why Scott was avoiding his aggressively ringing phone after his mishap during the interview earlier that day.

 

**Five.**

_"Quinoa! Mr. Stark introduced me to it! They're like little marbles you can eat!"_

*

"Mr. Stark!" Peter, literally, swung into the lab at the Avengers Compound. 

"Seriously, just call me Tony." 

"Right, okay. Mr. Tony." 

A smothered chuckle, poorly disguised as a cough, came from Bruce's corner. 

"C'mon, you can do it, Underoos." 

"But it doesn't feel respectful without the mister." Peter whined. "How about Mr. T?" 

An unmistakable bark of laughter echoed in the room. 

Tony's lips ticked upward briefly before tugging down in disapproval. "Nope, nope, nope. Don't ever call me that again. Just Tony." He dragged out the syllables. "To-ny." 

Peter twitched. "Tony." He couldn't stop there. "Stark." 

"Close enough." Tony sighed and beckoned Peter over. "Alright, come take a look at these new prototypes." 

A bit later, Bruce wandered over and joined their discussion on elasticity and adhesion. "This is pretty amazing stuff." He commented, voice normal and innocent until it turned to a deeper grunt. "I pity the fool who gets wrapped up in this." 

Tony let out a wounded groan, one hand clutching at his chest and the other pointing accusingly at Bruce. "Et tu, Brute?" 

Peter was bewildered. Bruce cackled. FRIDAY asked if she should cue up Rocky III for the next movie night.

*

Peter enjoyed working at Stark Industries. Not only did it give him a chance to explore future career options but also a legitimate reason to be there, which translated to more time to learn from and spend with Tony. 

Tony gifted the world with his creations, always prioritizing benefit over profit. The externs thrived under his unique method that was part challenge and part encouragement, bound together with gentle snark. To say Peter worshipped Tony would be an overstatement, though not necessarily incorrect. Yet Peter's devotion was not blind, because Tony encouraged critical thinking and Peter had seen first-hand what kind of damage unquestioning loyalty wrought. 

Captain America had demanded obedience from his teammates, complete dedication to him and his cause. Thoughtlessly and wholeheartedly and dangerously. 

Iron Man asked for accountability from his teammates, shared responsibility for themselves and the world. Analytically and collaboratively and beneficially. 

Except it wasn't really Iron Man, it was all Tony Stark. The man who was more of a superhero without his armor than with it. The man who valued dissenting opinions, provided they were intelligent ones. The man who was funding and training the next generations of scientists to  _reframe the future_. 

"Learn your asses off." Tony had declared at the end of his introductory speech when the Stark Industries externship launched. A gauntlet had unfolded neatly from an unassuming wristwatch, which he used to fire a repulsor shot through a line of piñatas hanging from the high ceiling that had somehow remained unnoticed all morning. Chocolates had rained down as Ms. Potts pulled Tony off of the stage with an amused smile and an indulgent shake of her head when he offered her one of the candies. 

The program was, as expected, a success. Tony took special care to spend time with each extern, which involved one-on-one lunches to discuss project proposals and progress updates. Ms. Potts was the one who set up the lunchtime check-ins, under the guise of multitasking and feeding the next generation of scientists, but Peter knew its primary goal was to ensure that Tony ate regularly. 

Keeping the employees fueled was a high priority at Stark Industries. There was at least one coffee cart on each floor and the cafeteria on site was a marvel with ever-changing menus and seasonal items. Peter had smuggled out several pumpkin s'mores cupcakes for Aunt May, whose threat of hiding his clothes was frighteningly effective. 

Peter thought it would be best if Aunt May never met Ms. Potts, and Tony agreed grimly. FRIDAY twinkled her mirth via the lights.

*

"Parker!" Tony called from the doorway. "Lunch?" 

"Yes, yes sir!" Peter scrambled up from his desk, ignoring the jealous looks from his neighbors, and just had enough self-control not to break into a run as he made his way out of the lab. Peter was the extern with the least number of invites, so his eager excitement was understandable. The others didn't know he had had plenty of meals at the Avengers Compound, and Peter planned to keep it that way. 

There was a contest among the externs to see who would get invited to lunch with Tony, not only because of the company but also the food.  _The food_. 

The chefs always constructed something off-menu for Tony, who enjoyed being the center of attention. The specialty item would eventually circulate onto the menu but it was a source of pride to sample it first. It was everyone's goal to be chosen and the winner had to photograph the meal to be posted on their shared Instagram. Since the creation of their account, Stark Industries had received inquiries about next year's externship program by the hundreds. 

Tony asked about Peter's work and classes as they made their way to the cafeteria. Peter was happy to note that Tony seemed lighter, as if he had finally let go of something that had weighed him down. Their chatter continued after they sat down and until two trays were brought over. 

"Hey, this is really good!" Peter's eyes widen in surprise. "What is it?" 

"Quinoa." Tony replied.

Peter stared at the grain in awe before shoveling another bite in his mouth. "Quinoa." He said it like a revelation.

Tony's brows arched in amusement. "You forgot to take your picture." 

Peter made an unintelligible sound that could have been a swear word. 

Tony rolled his eyes, tilted his face downward and tapped the corner of his sunglasses, an almost inaudible shutter click was heard. "There, sent." 

"You're the best, Mr. T!" Peter shoveled another bite into his mouth, grinning widely. His phone buzzed against his leg confirming the receipt of the photo. 

"I thought we agreed to  _never_  call me that again!" Tony bristled and hissed like an angry cat, pulling Peter's bowl away as Peter tried to scoop another bite with little success.

*

The interview with a local news channel was not supposed to be a big deal, an opportunity to promote the program and its founder. Aunt May's excitement was entirely disproportionate, she buzzed around their apartment alternating between wistful laments of her little nephew all grown-up and almost-aggressive styling of his outfit and hair for the event. 

Peter didn't dare to say it, but she reminded him fiercely of Effie Trinket and he felt disturbingly like a tribute offered to the Captiol. He went along with it, wearing a tie dutifully and promising to help her locate a video clip of the interview for prosperity, half enjoying being doted on and half wracked with guilt. Aunt May didn't know he was already constantly on the news, and a YouTube sensation, as Spiderman. They would have that conversation after his eighteenth birthday, only a few months away. He managed to keep The Hunger Games references to himself, until he was on his way out and gave his aunt a three-fingered salute along with a wistful whistle.

*

That afternoon, Peter blamed his nerves for his overly-enthusiastic and wildly off-target answer. 

That evening, Ms. Pott delivered a family-sized bag of Peter's favorite grain and met Aunt May. 

The next day, Peter and Tony met for an emergency session on how to best contain the unholy alliance among Aunt May, Ms. Potts, and FRIDAY.

 

**One.**

_"Just call me a magnificent butterfly."_  

**Author's Note:**

> [dls-ao3.tumblr.com](https://dls-ao3.tumblr.com/)


End file.
